


full of cheer

by eddiespaghetti (foxwatson)



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Mistletoe, Nonsense, Office Party, also mid twenties eddie rights, and, and they're in their twenties, mid twenties richie rights!, morons to lovers, there's also, they work in an office together, we're gonna make that tag a thing guys, you know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:28:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21814423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxwatson/pseuds/eddiespaghetti
Summary: It’s been just over six months since Richie started his very first terrible office job. It’s terrible in the way that only truly mundane things can be terrible, grating on his nerves essentially every moment he’s inside the building. There is, though, one part of Richie’s job he does not hate, and that part is his embarrassing office crush on Eddie Kaspbrak. That embarrassing crush does drive him to drink at the office holiday party, though.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 33
Kudos: 598





	full of cheer

**Author's Note:**

> title credit to julian casablancas' christmas treat, aka snl's "i wish it was christmas today" bc that song had exactly the energy i needed for this fic and i listened to it. so many times
> 
> dedicated as always to the twitter crew bc this fic wouldn't exist without them
> 
> this fic also contains like klajsdf EXCESSIVE references to die hard and it's a wonderful life, sorry i'm not really that sorry ajsdknflm

It’s been just over six months since Richie started his very first terrible office job. It’s terrible in the way that only truly mundane things can be terrible, grating on his nerves essentially every moment he’s inside the building. Everything is drab and gray, there’s fucking copy machines everywhere, people have cubicles, it’s disgusting. It’s worse because it feels like quitting or giving up somehow, even though Richie’s still in New York and he’s still doing improv and angling desperately for an audition for SNL. Taking an office job just feels like he’s saying he can’t do it - even if he just really needs the extra money for rent.

All of that is just to say - Richie hates his fucking job! Big whoop! So does at least half of the fucking country probably, and especially half of Manhattan, and particularly the half in their early 20s.

There is, though, one part of Richie’s job he does not hate, and that part is his embarrassing office crush.

It’s not that having an office crush is inherently embarrassing. It’s just that Richie having a crush on Eddie Kaspbrak is embarrassing for him, specifically, because there is no way in hell that Eddie would ever give him the time of day. Eddie wears ties to work and drinks his coffee from a fancy travel mug and actually seems to be working the entire time he’s in the office.

Richie has exactly enough button-downs for a work week, most of which stay wrinkled, and he spends most of his work days playing solitaire on his computer.

It’s not just that, either. It’s mostly the fact that Eddie, in spite of the fact that he looks like he’s still pretty close to Richie’s age, actually acts like a real adult. Richie is steadily discovering that even though he is literally being paid to do so, he is incapable of actual adulthood. If it weren’t for how fucking good Eddie obviously is at it, Richie would think the whole thing is made up and impossible.

Eddie is an adult, though. He eats lunch at his desk, and it’s usually a salad. Richie has to go to the deli down the street or a nearby cheap pizza place every day.

Still, pretty soon, Richie’s going to quit. He knows that. And then his embarrassing crush on Eddie won’t matter anymore, and Richie will maybe actually get a job on SNL, which he would actually be good at.

At this exact moment, though, none of that fucking matters anyways, because tonight is the office holiday party.

This is another thing Richie had sort of assumed was made up or exaggerated, this thing where offices go all out and all the employees for some reason hang out and drink in the office. Clearly it isn’t made up, though, at least in his fancy Manhattan office, because it’s happening. There’s wine and champagne and all kinds of cookies, the entire office is decorated, and everyone is there and dressed up.

Richie has appropriated a pair of novelty antlers for himself, ones that he just found lying around, and he’s already started drinking because he feels like he’s going to need it. Stan, the one other person in the office that Richie truly likes because Richie knew him before they ever worked here, is wearing a Hanukkah sweater with a light-up menorah on it.

Eddie is wearing a dark green button-down and a festive little red tie.

Although Richie is talking to Stan, and attempting to be subtle, he keeps sneaking glances at Eddie over the cubicle walls, because he feels confident that Eddie is too short to see him peeking.

“You could at least bother to pretend you’re paying attention, Richie,” Stan tells him, raising one unimpressed eyebrow.

Knowing he’s caught, Richie still goes to the effort of making an offended noise in the back of his throat. “Stanley, how dare you. I hang on your every word. You were saying… something about spending Hanukkah with your girlfriend’s family instead of your father, because he’s overbearing even for a rabbi.”

Stan narrows his eyes. “Fine. Maybe your ears do work even when you’re busy staring at Eddie. Guess that’s probably a good sign for your ability to do any work at all in the office.”

For a moment, Richie sputters, but soon he just gives up and takes a long sip of his drink. “Shut up. He might hear you.”

“Doubt it,” Stan says, but he lets it go.

Richie chugs the rest of his little plastic cup of wine and then looks over at the windows again, where there’s a surprisingly nice view of the city skyline. “Does having a Christmas party up here make anybody else feel like we’re all about to end up in Die Hard? Just me?”

“This piece of shit skyscraper is hardly Nakatomi Plaza, Richie.”

Only it isn’t Stan that replies to Richie - it’s Eddie.

The only reason Richie doesn’t spill his drink on himself is because his cup was already empty. He holds the upturned cup against his chest like it was somehow an intentional move, and tries to lean against the cubicle wall as he turns. He’s going for casual, but judging by Stan’s unimpressed stare, he’s missing.

Eddie’s just standing there, glass of white wine in hand, giving Richie a little half-smile.

Since when does Eddie Kaspbrak, functional adult, know the name of the building in Die Hard? What right does he have swanning up to Richie and just knowing shit like that? “You a big Die Hard fan, Eds?” Richie manages to ask after a pause that is only slightly too long.

Eddie snorts. “First of all, don’t call me that. Second of all, I don’t know that I qualify as a big fan just because I happen to remember the name of the building. It’s a good movie.”

“It sure is! Good taste. You have any other favorite Christmas movies?”

“Die Hard isn’t a Christmas movie,” Eddie tells him, scoffing.

“It’s a movie and it takes place entirely at a Christmas party? How the fuck is it not a Christmas movie?”

“Because it’s all about terrorists attacking a building and Bruce Willis climbing through air vents! It’s an action movie that just happens to take place at Christmas. Christmas movies are things like… It’s a Wonderful Life,” Eddie bites back, starting to gesture with his free hand. He always does this when he starts to get passionate - Richie pisses him off sometimes just to watch him do it. There’s one particular move where he takes his hand and does a little karate chop, almost, right in front of his face, and that one’s Richie’s favorite. It’s the cutest thing in the world.

Richie grins and leans further on the cubicle wall beside him. “You want the moon, Eds?” he asks in his best Jimmy Stewart impression.

Though he scoffs and turns his head, it’s obvious there’s a hint of a smile creeping up on the corners of Eddie’s mouth. “Oh fuck off, that was terrible. I’m getting more wine. You’re driving me to drink, Tozier.”

As he watches Eddie walk away, Richie props his chin on his own hands where he’s still leaning on the cubicle wall. He definitely does not give a little sigh, because that would be embarrassing, even for him.

“Did you just sigh?” Stan asks, utterly offended.

Richie jumps, because he did not realize that Stan was still there. “Jesus fuck, Stanley, warn a guy!”

Stan snorts. “Yeah, okay. Go drink some more and see if it helps with this.”

Nodding, Richie tightens his grip on his hilariously small plastic cup and heads for the refreshment table. “Good idea, good idea.”

Eddie is, fortunately, already gone from the drink table. Richie takes the opportunity to pour himself a glass of wine, toss it back, and pour himself another glass. He longs for something stronger so he could actually get properly drunk, but for now, edging towards tipsy is clearly going to have to do.

However, when no one else is nearby, he decides to go ahead and finish off another glass of wine before he leaves with his refill.

Normally, being a six foot tall man who is no longer just skin and bones would mean that four to five tiny glasses of wine would barely put Richie in buzzed territory. However, Richie realizes as he starts to feel it that he forgot to eat lunch today, because he was so busy, and the only thing he had to eat was cereal for breakfast.

To compensate, he snags some cookies from the refreshment table, but he has a terrible feeling that’s only going to do so much - he’s already feeling almost genuinely tipsy.

As he’s nodding his head along with the music, and heading back into the thick of the party, he bumps into someone, and nearly spills wine on them.

When he looks down - of course it’s Eddie. Of fucking course it is.

Richie blinks down at him, and tries to smile, only that’s about the time he realizes that he still has a mouthful of wine, and some of it comes dribbling down his chin. Oh, God.

Eddie, immediately, makes a sort of disgusted face and turns and walks in the other direction without a word.

Right. So much for that, then.

Looking down, Richie realizes he’s gotten wine on his ugly sweater. Huffing out a sigh, he finishes off the glass of wine in his hand, throws his cup away, and shuffles to the bathroom.

He wets a paper towel and starts wiping at his sweater mostly fruitlessly before he realizes that Eddie is already in there, rubbing at a little spot on his button-down.

“Shit,” Richie says, pausing his own hopeless attempts. “Did I get wine on you? I’m sorry, if I did, I’m sort of-”

Eddie looks over at him, and gives him the tiniest of smiles. “No, Richie. It wasn’t you. I bumped into someone else.”

“Oh, good. Good. Okay. I mean, for a drunken mess I’m doing okay, then, I would have felt like shit if I spilled wine on you, you’re like, the best dressed person at this shitty party.”

That makes Eddie actually huff out a quiet laugh, and Richie can feel his heart do something funny in his chest. “Thanks. Don’t know if I can compete with a - uh, dinosaur themed Christmas sweater, though.”

Richie looks down at his own sweater and grins. “Yeah, it’s pretty sick, right? I love this thing. I found it in one of those shitty little stores you could only find in Brooklyn, and I knew it was the one.” He sees the wine spot again, though, and frowns, going back to trying to clean it off. “Gonna suck if this wine stains, though. Fuck.”

“Here. Let me,” Eddie says, walking over.

Almost terrified, Richie drops his hands and watches, frozen in place, as Eddie approaches him. Eddie doesn’t flinch, though. He wets a paper towel in the sink and goes at the spot on Richie’s sweater with the same vigor he’d been applying to his own shirt. He’s holding the material in one hand, so it’s not like Richie can feel any of that - that’s not the problem.

The problem is Eddie is like, right there. His head is ducked down, and Richie could lean down and just gently kiss the top of his head, right over his hair. If Richie tilts his head the right way, he can even see where Eddie’s tongue is poking out just at the corner of his mouth, just slightly, as he works.

Richie’s still staring as Eddie makes a little noise of contentment and then pulls back. 

“There,” Eddie says quietly, stepping back to observe his hard work.

That makes Richie actually look down again and - well, shit. Somehow, the stain is actually almost completely gone. Richie lifts his sweater up, holding it to his face, and blinks at it. “Shit, Eds. How’d you do that?”

“Uh,” Eddie says.

That’s weird. Richie looks up, and finds Eddie sort of flushed, his eyes focused somewhere below Richie’s face. Richie blinks at him. “Eds?”

Eddie’s gaze snaps up to Richie’s face, and he’s clearly flushed. Probably from the wine. “Right. Just - warm water and… salt. I had some I got from the refreshment table for my shirt. Sorry.”

Richie looks back down at his now stain-free sweater and shrugs as he pulls it back down and straightens it out. “Don’t need to tell me sorry. You just saved my Christmas sweater, man. Thanks.”

“Yeah, I - no problem. I’m gonna - head back out there.”

“Oh, right, I-”

But Eddie’s already gone, pushing his way back out and through the door before Richie’s even done talking.

Richie’s left alone in the bathroom, then, suddenly hyper aware of how close to tipsy he is.

Well. Fuck it. He’s come this far, right?

When he walks back out into the party, he goes right for the drinks table and pours himself a final, big glass of wine, and throws it back. He tosses the cup, and grabs another cookie as he leaves the room, now visibly bobbing his head to the distant and tinny music coming through the office speakers. He can feel something moving on his head, and has to reach up and touch to remember he still has on those stupid novelty antlers. Fuck.

Laughing at himself, Richie retreats back to his own cubicle, on a side of the office which is now basically deserted, because it’s furthest from the refreshment table.

He can hear the music better here, though, and he doesn’t want to go home just yet for fear of looking like a sad sack, so he just sort of stands in his cubicle, bobbing his head and almost dancing to Christmas music.

“You realize the party isn’t really over here, right?” a voice asks behind him.

When Richie turns, he’s sort of expecting Stan, because he can’t all the way place the voice, but when he finds that it’s Eddie, a bright grin spreads across his face. “Eds! Hey! Man, I thought maybe you went home to, like, get your shirt in the washer. Having fun?”

Eddie snorts, but the smile on his face is genuine now. “Of course. This office party, just an absolute blast.”

“Well I’m having fun. Free wine, delicious cookies, and your absolutely delightful company. Hell of a lot better than watching Die Hard at home.”

“Do you really watch Die Hard at Christmas?”

“Every year,” Richie says solemnly, finally stopping his dancing to nod. He feels the antlers shift slightly on his head, and reaches up to adjust them.

Eddie just watches with his arms crossed. “Watch anything else?”

“Uh - I dunno. I mean, Christmas is weird, I like - my mom was Jewish, and my dad was an asshole, so like-”

That earns Richie a laugh. “Sorry - God, sorry, just. I didn’t realize that being an asshole was now a religious or cultural designation.”

Richie smiles, delighted by hearing Eddie laugh. “Trust me, if you met my dad, you’d believe it. That motherfucker - he was a dentist. Can you believe that? Like his job was just an extension of his enjoyment of physical and emotional torture-”

Eddie starts laughing again, and Richie laughs with him. “Sorry!” Eddie exclaims. “Oh, God, sorry, this should not be funny-”

“Oh, it’s definitely funny. It doesn’t make other people laugh, usually, but I agree with you, Eddie Spaghetti-”

“Spaghetti?” Eddie wheezes out, laughing so hard now he’s almost starting to cry. “Oh fuck you, we do not need additional nicknames-”

“Admittedly, that one’s new, but I’m kind of fond of it.”

“You’re such an asshole,” Eddie chokes out, but it’s in between laughs, so Richie just keeps smiling.

They stand there in relative quiet for a moment while Richie watches Eddie catch his breath. “Are you like - do you need to go home soon? I mean we already know my fabulous holiday plans outside of the office.”

Eddie snorts, but this time it’s not genuinely amused. He cuts a glance away from Richie, over towards the rest of the party, and his shoulders go a little bit tense. “No, I mean - this is all better than - you know ever since -” Cutting himself off, Eddie does a sort of hand-waving motion that involves a twirl of his wrist. “I just don’t always love being at home, alone.”

For a second, Richie doesn’t really know what Eddie’s talking about.

Then he recalls suddenly, vividly, that just a couple of months after he’d started working here, Eddie had broken off an engagement. People had kept asking him about it, and it had all seemed pretty serious. Eddie had been pretty tight-lipped about the whole thing, and Richie wouldn’t even know much of anything had Eddie’s insurance adjustment paperwork not come through Richie’s inbox.

Her name was Myra. Eddie was straight. That was all Richie had really gotten out of it.

Eddie is straight, though. That’s the thing that Richie tends to let himself forget when it doesn’t matter, but now here he is making an idiot out of himself because he did forget, again.

Richie swallows, and wishes he had another drink in his hand. “‘M gonna go - get some more wine. You want anything?”

“...Oh. No, that’s - that’s fine, Rich. Sorry.”

Suddenly, Eddie is walking away again, and this time Richie definitely doesn’t know what he did. He wasn’t the one that brought up Eddie’s ex-fiancee or whatever.

Well, fuck it.

Richie goes back to the table, and grabs another glass of wine, but this time he carries it with him. Instead of bumping headfirst into Eddie again immediately, he finds Stan.

“Stan the man! Hey! You’re still here!”

Stan rolls his eyes. “Yes, Richie, I’m still here. I am also, however, almost completely sober. Are you sure you’ll be okay to get home?”

“Me? Psh, Stanley, please, I’m not even actually drunk, I’m just - tipsy. This is what cabs are for. I’ll be fine. Are you leaving?”

“Probably soon.” Stan squints up at him and sighs. “Try not to do anything too stupid when I’m not even here to watch. Go find Eddie or something.”

“Hey, Eds left me. Not my fault.”

For a moment, Stan opens his mouth. Then he closes it again, shakes his head, and starts to leave. “Okay. I’m staying out of it. Goodnight, Richie, Happy Hanukkah, Merry Christmas, don’t get mugged or anything when you leave or I’ll feel guilty and then I’ll just be angry about it.”

Richie snorts and flips Stan off behind his back. Without even looking back, Stan flips him off, too. Richie cackles.

“You guys are close,” Eddie says beside him, and Richie jumps.

He nearly spills his wine again. It’s a fucking close call. Maybe his reactions are just down because he’s so close to drunk, but he did not hear Eddie approach at all. “Fuck, Eds, is everybody just out to get me tonight?”

“Yeah, probably,” Eddie tells him. “You’re funny to watch. Something about how tall you are and the way you flail your arms.”

“Well fuck you, too-” Richie starts, but he gets cut off when Eddie reaches up and fixes his antlers for him. That makes him lose all train of thought, and he just sort of gives up on words as he watches Eddie lean in close again, his big, dark eyes sparkling beautifully in the twinkling lights put up for the party.

“So I was trying to ask about how long you and Stan have known each other,” Eddie prompts him, as he settles back down on his feet.

Richie blinks at him. “Right. Well. We met because my mom used to try and drag me to Temple where his dad was the Rabbi. When he had his bar mitzvah, he went completely off the rails, and I clapped - after that we were always kind of tight. He helped me get the job here.”

“That’s nice,” Eddie tells him.

“Yeah - yeah. He’s a good friend. Not like, the best friend, or he’d let me run away with him and his soon-to-be fiancee on a beautiful Christmas vacation, but Stanley’s too responsible for shit like that. Has to go visit family”

“Soon to be - Stan’s engaged?”

“Well not yet, but he and Patty have been dating since college and they’re like, stupid in love. It’s a little bit gross, honestly, but whatever, you know, good for him.” Richie punctuates this with a sip of his wine. He’s happy for Stan! Really he is! If he sounds bitter because he’s talking to his straight crush about it, well - it’s not like Stan is there to hear him.

“What about you, then?” Eddie presses.

Richie makes eye contact with Eddie and frowns. “What about me what?”

Eddie looks at him like he’s crazy. “Are you dating anyone?”

Oh. Right. Richie snorts. “Oh, fuck, no. I’m - perpetually single. Terminally single, some might call it. It’s, you know, they make a whole big thing out of like, you’re gay! Go to the city! But can you even imagine me dancing in a club? I do not have the skills to pull off any of that stuff, so I just - yeah, no.” At some point he realizes he was sort of rambling, and he feels like if he wasn’t already flushed from the alcohol he’d be blushing. God, embarrassing. Eddie makes him so bad at being a person.

Only now it’s quiet, because Eddie’s just sort of staring at him, too. “You’re gay?” He asks quietly.

Oh shit. Fuck. Richie clutches at his plastic glass a little more tightly, and it slips against his fingers just a little. He barely manages to keep his grip. “Uh, yeah, I - You’re not gonna like tell anyone are you? I know we’re in Manhattan, but you know, I know it can be sort of office-dependent, and I don’t really tell anyone, I’m - it can be hard to get jobs and stuff sometimes, and I don’t-”

“Richie, hey. I’m not gonna tell anybody.” Eddie steps closer and puts a hand on Richie’s arm.

It’s nice of him. Richie blinks. “Yeah? It’s not - I mean it’s like-”

“It’s okay,” Eddie tells him softly.

Richie can feel himself relax a little bit, and he nods, and pushes up his glasses. “Right. Sorry. Thanks, Eds, that’s - that’s cool of you. Stan knows too, he was pretty cool about it.”

One corner of Eddie’s mouth lifts up and - oh, yeah, there’s the dimple. Up close and everything. Richie has to fight the urge to reach out and touch, but somehow he manages.

“Right. Good to know,” Eddie tells him, obviously a little amused. Then he swallows, and looks down. “I - you know, I get it. The - terminally single thing. I know everyone knows I was engaged, but you know everyone was kind of right, too, it was a shitty situation and it just- it was rough. So I get it.”

In spite of the haze of the alcohol, Richie recognizes that this is a serious moment, and he shouldn’t fuck it up. “Well if she’s not gonna show up at this Christmas party and save you from terrorists, she doesn’t deserve you, man.”

Eddie blinks at him and frowns. “Is that-”

“You know, cause in - in Die Hard it’s really about, like his marriage and his fight to get his wife back. He walks over glass for her! If somebody’s not gonna walk on glass for you, Eds, fuck her.”

“Or if somebody’s not gonna lasso the moon for me?” Eddie asks, quietly, looking up at Richie.

“Right!” he says, maybe a little too loudly.

Eddie laughs, and glances away, down at his feet. “You’re nice, Richie.”

That makes Richie snort. “I’m not frequently accused of that. If Stan were still here he’d tell you I’m an asshole. Cause I am. I wanna be a standup comedian, nice people don’t really go in for that. Or - well really I wanna be on SNL-”

“Well Stan’s wrong. You’re nice.” Eddie reaches out, then hesitantly places a hand on Richie’s shoulder, pats once, and moves away again. “Anyways. So you - you do comedy? Like on the weekends?”

Richie nods, maybe a little too vigorously. “Yeah, yeah. I do improv and stuff, trying to make connections so I can get an audition. We’ll see if it ever pans out and I can actually get out of this hellhole.”

Snorting out another laugh, Eddie raises his cup. “I’ll drink to that.”

Leaning in, Richie delicately knocks their little plastic cups together. “Cheers, to this terrible fucking job.”

Eddie takes a long drink. Then when he swallows, he looks up at Richie. “Yeah I - I fucking hate it here.”

“Really?” Richie asks, genuinely surprised.

“Yes! God, fuck, I - I got a business degree because my mom wanted me to, and I got the job here because my ex wanted me to, and now I’m just here and I keep realizing how much I fucking hate it, you know? It’s awful! I don’t - I don’t have a plan, the way you do, but someday I’ll quit, too.”

“Yeah!” Richie exclaims, patting Eddie on the back. “Dude, that’s great. Hey, if you wanna coordinate so we both throw all our shit down and walk out on the same day, let me know, that’d be like, comedic gold.”

That makes Eddie laugh again, and he smiles at Richie, genuinely. “I’ll keep that in mind, Rich.”

God, Richie loves it when Eddie calls him that. He smiles, probably goofily, and he flushes a little, too, but he’s generally sort of warm at this point so it’s probably not obvious.

“I - um - I’m out of wine again,” Eddie says quietly. “I’ll - I’ll be back.”

For some reason, this keeps happening. It’s probably something Richie is doing to fuck up somehow, but he has no idea what it is. He sighs, and throws back most of the rest of his wine. He’s not going to get any more, though. He’s not.

Instead, he just sort of wanders the party. People are starting to go home, people other than Stan, and it’s obvious things are starting to die down. He should probably stop hanging around soon, and stop trying to follow Eddie around to keep trying to talk to him some more.

Just as he starts eyeing his cubicle and thinking of getting ready to go home, Eddie finds him again.

“Richie - oh.”

“What?” Richie asks, genuinely concerned suddenly. He looks down at his sweater again, and in his mostly empty cup, like it’s going to give him answers about why Eddie’s suddenly being so weird.

“Just you’re - standing under the mistletoe.”

At that, Richie looks up. Well. Looks like Eddie’s telling the truth. Fuck. He shuffles, fully planning to get out from under it. “Shit, God, that’s-”

Only Eddie steps closer, braces a hand on Richie’s shoulder, and leans up and kisses him on the cheek. His breath is warm, and he huffs out a little laugh as he pulls back, smiling up at Richie with a blush falling over his cheeks.

He looks sort of - breathtaking, really, there in the dimmed, warmer lighting for the party. His hair is a little messier than usual, his tie is a little crooked, and he has this tiny little smile on his face.

Unfortunately, the whole thing is kind of just breaking Richie’s heart into a thousand tiny little pieces, because Eddie is being so fucking nice about this whole thing when he doesn’t have to be. It’s sweet of him to be so cool and so casual, but it also just kind of really fucking hurts.

Richie gives him a smile and then steps around him, moving out from under the mistletoe. “Uh - thanks, Eds.” He knows he sounds awkward - he feels fucking awkward.

“Oh. Oh. Yeah, uh - well it’s. You know it’s bad luck to - wait under the mistletoe and not be kissed. Or something like that,” Eddie says.

A little confused by Eddie’s tone, Richie turns, and sees that he’s starting to step back a little. Instead, Richie reaches out and grabs his arm and tugs him out from under the doorway a little. “Yeah, don’t - if you’re not careful you’re gonna get stuck under there.”

Eddie looks up, and then looks over at Richie, his brow all furrowed, and his mouth downturned. “Yeah I - thanks, I guess.” Eddie shakes him loose, shoving his hands in his pockets and hunching his shoulders up a little, protectively. “Are you - uh. You heading out soon?”

“I was thinking about it,” Richie says, staring down into his cup. He finishes off the last of his wine and then starts towards his cubicle. “Seems kind of sad to keep, like, hovering around the office.”

“I-” Eddie huffs and rubs a hand over his face. “Do you - wanna walk down together? Or is that, like-”

“Yeah, sure,” Richie says, agreeing enthusiastically before he can stop himself. God, he’s a fucking idiot, but he’s drunk and he’s still a little warm and he doesn’t want to say goodbye to Eddie yet. Whatever, fuck it. If he can survive that moment under the mistletoe he can probably survive anything, right?

He makes his way to his own cubicle and watches Eddie go to grab his own jacket and scarf. As he bundles up, he rubs his hands over his face and rubs at his eyes under his glasses. He pats at his own face, sort of trying to sober up a little before he has to face Eddie again, but it’s not really working.

“Ready to head out, Rich?” Eddie asks him quietly.

Richie looks back up and nods, following Eddie as they both walk out.

They pass a handful of people still enjoying the party, and there’s so few people left that the two of them are the only ones currently leaving. They make it to the elevator in mostly silence, and then Richie remembers their earlier conversation about It’s a Wonderful Life and starts humming Buffalo Gals under his breath.

There in the elevator, Eddie turns to him, starting to break into giggles, and grins, eyebrows raised. “Really?” he asks.

“ _Buffalo gals, won’t ya come out tonight, come out tonight, come out tonight, Buffalo gals, won’t ya come out tonight, and dance by the light of the moon_ ,” Richie sings under his breath in answer.

Eddie does not join in on the harmony, but he does stand there in the elevator, smiling down at the floor, obviously in a better mood again, so Richie counts it as a win.

When they get out on the ground floor, Richie stops humming. “Hey, good news is, looks like we’re gonna make it out of the building, so Nakatomi Plaza situation avoided entirely.”

“Guess we both missed our chance to walk on glass, then.”

Richie laughs, even though he’s not sure exactly what Eddie means by that. “Probably would have just been walking on those shitty little plastic cups up there. Plenty of glass in the streets of Manhattan, Eds.”

“Seems like a guaranteed way to get an infection.”

“Well the whole point is that it’s dangerous, Eddie, or otherwise it’s not a real gesture,” Richie tells him as he holds open the door for the both of him.

Eddie stops, right in the doorway and looks up at him. “Okay, in that case, stick to the moon lassoing, maybe. The glass is a little much for me personally.” He pats Richie on the chest with a grin before going out onto the street.

It’s at that exact moment that Richie realizes he has clearly lost the entire thread of whatever is happening. He walks out through the door, and lets it close behind him, but he’s sort of just shuffling along behind Eddie, looking down at the ground while he tries to figure out where he got lost.

“Hey so I’m - I’m this way, I mean. I usually just - I should probably get a cab, but if we’re going in two different directions,” Richie says out loud, like it’ll make everything make sense again.

Turning, Eddie looks at him. “What? Are you - you don’t want to - where are you?”

“Hell’s Kitchen.”

Eddie nods, once. “Right. I’m on the Upper West Side. So I guess if you’re - maybe it’s not logical to split a cab. If we’re not going to the same place.”

“Right,” Richie says back, nodding. At least that makes sense again.

“Richie, are you - can you come here, for a second?” Eddie asks, nodding towards an alleyway near the office entrance, but out of sight.

It’s quiet outside for the moment. It’s late, and the area around their building isn’t really a tourist hotspot. Eddie steps into the alleyway first, and Richie follows him, cautiously, just in case. There’s still no one else there, just Eddie, closer than Richie really expected him to be.

This time, Eddie reaches up to adjust his antlers first - Richie had sort of forgotten he left them on. Then he presses closer, up on his toes, and leans in for what looks like a kiss.

Richie, in spite of his delayed reflexes, startles and jerks back, only his balance is shitty even when he’s sober, so he goes stumbling back and falls into the wall on the other side of the alleyway, bumping his head a little as he falls onto the ground.

Eddie stands there, startled at first, but then when Richie just sits there, wide eyed and quiet, Eddie wraps his arms around himself and just stands there, unmoving.

“Jesus, Richie, I-” He cuts himself off to laugh, looking down at the ground. “I thought you seemed a little cagey upstairs but I thought it was just because everybody was still around, I didn’t think you - is kissing me that scary?”

“Yeah?” Richie asks, really not sure of how to answer that question - but either way, it is scary, and confusing, and Richie is very, very confused.

Eddie hugs himself a little bit tighter. “You’re - you know you give a lot of mixed fucking signals for somebody that’s so not interested. Maybe you should - get that checked out or something. Talk to a therapist. I’m probably not the healthiest gay guy in Manhattan, but you - you’re really something.”

“What?” Richie asks, finally a little offended on his own behalf. “You-” He stands up, and winces, rubbing at his own back. “Okay, ow, but also, you’re not even gay! That is not - you don’t get to say shit like that when you’re-”

“What the fuck are you talking about? Of course I’m gay. Everyone in the office - everyone talked about it after Myra broke it off with me-”

“You were engaged to a woman!” Richie says, pointing.

Looking around, Eddie finally turns back to Richie and squints at him like he’s lost his mind. “Are you serious right now? Did you really not know? What was all of that, upstairs?”

“I-” For a moment, Richie starts to try and defend himself again. Then, slowly, he thinks back to his comments about walking over glass and his own sexuality and the way he kept seeking Eddie out. Plus the fact that he does have a big, stupid, obnoxious crush on Eddie. “I was just - I was just being stupid, Eddie. I’m sorry.”

That makes Eddie choke out a laugh, but there’s no humor in it. He looks down again, and Richie can’t see his face in the dark of the alley. “No. No I think I’m the stupid one. I’m - sorry I - misread everything. I don’t know why I thought - I mean just because you’re gay doesn’t mean - whatever. It’s whatever. You’re drunk, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have - I shouldn’t have assumed anything. I’m just gonna-” Eddie gestures, with one frantic hand, and steps back out towards the street.

Richie watches him turn and walk away, his chest aching.

Then, after just long enough that Eddie’s standing at the curb, obviously searching for a cab, Richie finally starts to put together the pieces of what just happened.

Eddie thought that Richie was into him - correctly - but he also thought there was something happening. He tried to kiss Richie, because he wanted to. He maybe even thought they were leaving together.

“Eddie, wait!” Richie calls out, rushing out of the alleyway so quickly that when Eddie turns around, Richie nearly bumps into him.

“Shit, Tozier-”

“You want the moon, Eddie?” He reaches out and grabs Eddie’s arms, right below his shoulders. He’s not even doing a good Jimmy Stewart impression anymore, he’s mostly just making an idiot out of himself and hoping that it works. “Just - just say the word and I’ll throw a lasso around it and pull it down.”

Eddie looks a little confused, but he’s blushing again, out under the streetlights. “Richie,” he says, like a warning.

“Look, I’ll go get the glass bottles out of the alleyway but you were the one that said that was just the path to infection. I’ll do whatever you want, I’m an idiot, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, but you’re so - I’ve had a crush on you since the first day I saw you in the office and you had that yellow travel mug and your tie sort of matched it. I overheard you arguing with someone about something stupid in front of the copier and you did all those little things with your hands that you do when you get annoyed and I just - I thought you were straight and too good for me and all kinds of shit, I just never in a million years thought you’d be into me.”

Huffing out a little laugh, Eddie starts to smile. “You’re serious.”

“Just to repeat, I will get the glass if I need to.”

Shaking his head, Eddie reaches up and grabs at the lapels of Richie’s jacket. “You don’t need to get the glass. Fucking moron.”

“I deserve that,” Richie says quietly, leaning down.

Finally, Eddie presses up onto his toes and kisses Richie squarely on the lips, something short and desperate.

Richie stands there, dazed, until he feels Eddie pull the antlers off his head. “Hey, wait-” Then he opens his eyes, though, to Eddie, standing there grinning, with the antlers on his head.

“What do you think?” he asks.

Completely lovestruck, Richie just stands there, grinning at him. “Adorable.”

That makes Eddie shove at him. “Okay, asshole, shut up, go use your stupid height to actually get us a cab or something so we don’t have to make out in the cold in front of our office building where people might come walking out.”

“Where are we headed?” Richie asks, as he steps to the curb and sticks out his arm, trying to wave down a cab.

“Wherever,” Eddie tells him, coming up behind him and wrapping his arms around Richie’s waist to stick his hands in the pockets of Richie’s coat.

Richie shivers a little and grins. “Yeah, alright.” Wherever sounds good.

**Author's Note:**

> and so the first of my holiday fics is here!! this will probably be the shortest of the batch, bc it was just a little idea based on something gillian said, but i really wanted to write it and get it out. there will be more reddie holiday content to come! as always, in the meantime, find me on twitter or tumblr @eddykaspbraks - i do most of my incessant Yelling on twitter.


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